You were just joking around. What could it hurt? You thought. All the while your friend pleaded with you “Stop!! Don’t walk through the mushroom circle!!”
You laughed, exaggeratingly dangling your foot above the circle “Oh noooo, are the fairies going to come get me.” You were still laughing as you brought your foot down to meet the earth.
But your mirth ended quickly.
The last things you remember were the soft mossy feel of the ground inside the circle gently cupping your foot (which was odd, because you were wearing shoes.)
And odder still, was that the only other sensation you recall, was the sound of your friend’s ear splitting scream. It sounded like it was coming from impossibly far away, but weren’t they standing right beside you?
And speaking of standing, you realize now that you aren’t. You’re laying flat on your back. On what appears to be some kind of elevated surface, like a table, but the same mossy softness you inexplicably felt on your foot now gently cradles your entire body.
You try to scramble to your feet, but it’s as if the moss is holding you in place.
“Please relax” a voice startles you and your eyes dart to its source: A nearly five and half foot tall mushroom creature in a lab coat stands just a few feet away.
Various mushrooms and plant life bioluminescence as they run their hand like appendages over them. Almost as if they were typing on some sort of machine, but it just looks like oddly shaped fungi and vegetation to you.
“You will be returned to your Reality of Origin as soon as I’ve finished collecting some samples.” They turn briefly to look at you, “typing” on their odd apparatus all the while, adding “you will not be harmed. This is for Science.”
They punctuate the final word with a proud flourish of their labcoat.
“What the hell … What? Samples?” You stammer in your confusion.
“Yes!” The Creature chirped excitedly “Apologies, allow me to introduce myself: I am the Mad Shroomentist (don’t be alarmed, it’s just a title) and I am tasked with studying the genomic precursors to anomalous reality structures, in search of possible preventative measures that could be installed as fail-safes for future realities.”
You stare at them, desperately trying to make sense of their words. Reading the confusion on your face they sigh and continue “You’re from a Hellscape Reality. We’re hoping your blood might contain clues that will prevent other realities from collapsing into [they gesture vaguely in your direction] all that.”
“Hey! It’s not MY fault our reality sucks so bad!!” You retort, understanding enough to be offended by the implication.
They move over to you and smile sadly, for the first time giving you their full attention “Oh no, that’s not what I mean. It’s not your fault, but just by living there it does infect you. And that infection can be used, we hope, to synthesize an antidote.”
“Will that fix our reality?” You ask, hopeful for the first time since this strange encounter began.
“Ohh no, sorry. Your reality is patient 0. It’s not hopeless though! But you have to fix it from the inside. No external force can save you. But you could save each other.”
You sit. Pondering their words, but before the gravity of them can really set in, they go on “And if you do manage to save each other, please come back to your local mushroom circle, because I would love to see what that does to your blood.”
You stare at them. A wordless accusation hangs in the air.
“What?” They balk, defensively “It’s not like you’re really using all of your blood! Whatever. Good luck with your saving the world thing. The Fae Wilds are rooting for you. Your current controllers waste an egregious amount of blood.”
You glare at them and they quickly correct themself “Life! I meant life. That’s the thing that makes the blood and the better the quality of life, the better the quality of the blood. So good blood! I mean luck!”
“I’m really unclear on if you’re helping us or farming us” you begin to ask, but they press a series of mossy rocks next to you and everything begins to fade out before you could get a response.
You come to, standing one foot inside the mushroom circle, your friend screaming in genuine distress right behind you.
You yank your foot out as if it was burning.
“It’s NOT funny!!” They begin to yell, but they trail off as you back away from the circle, clearly distressed and unwilling to let it out of your sight.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Wait, what just happen—” they begin, but you cut them off.
“There’s no time for that now. We have to fix society. And then maybe figure out how to make our blood taste more bitter or, I don’t know, one thing at a time.”